


Into the Void

by BlaiddDrwg1982



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Based off Twitter Prompt, Dubious Consent, Few Survivors, Lots of dead people, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune Derek Hale, Nogitsune Effects, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, but he got better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-28 23:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13914762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlaiddDrwg1982/pseuds/BlaiddDrwg1982
Summary: Falling to the ground, Derek’s eyes flashed blue, then silver then back to blue. Stiles cradled Derek’s face as the blue slid from his eyes, to be replaced with the cold silver he’d grown accustomed to seeing in the reflective surfaced he’d passed. Tears spilled down his cheeks as his lover was slowly taken over by the Void.“Stiles,” Derek gasped weakly. “Run!”Stiles shook his head resolutely.“I’ll never leave you.”





	1. Darkest Night

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tweet.

The hollow laughter that filled the vet’s office was one of the worst sounds he remembered hearing through his entire life. The fact that it was coming from his own mouth while he stared in the eyes of his best friend whom he’d just impaled wasn’t helping things either. Bashing against the sides of the cage he was trapped in within his own head was nearly enough to break him, but he couldn’t give in. Not while there was a chance his friends could save him. He trusted them. He had faith. The other Him drank down the fear that accompanied the thought they’d be too late. 

Watching the view shift to the door of the office opening, Stiles felt the smile break out on his face.

“Baby.”

The voice was his, but the twisted sound was anything but endearing. Derek visibly flinched at the mocking tone, and Deaton was his usual never ending calm. The casual glance would make him appear unworried, but the other Him inside knew that Deaton was anything but calm. He was arrogant. So sure of his status as a Druidic Emissary, and that he’d right the wrong that had transpired to bring Him down from the heavens to take over the Novice Stilinski. The young man held an untapped reserve of power that his Werewolf Mate was only just now helping him delve into. 

“And Doctor. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

As though in slow motion, Stiles watched as Derek pounced at him, and not in the fun friendly way he was desperately trying to remember and hold on to. This was the way he attacked Peter in the wood. Only this time the enemy was wearing his face. Ducking the attack, Stiles saw his hand reach out and draw the sword out of Scott’s chest, before a flash of metal lanced out at his throat. Not deep enough to kill, but deep enough that a fountain of blood still appeared before his friend dropped to the floor, blessedly unconscious. He would heal. It would take a long time, but physically he would survive. Feeling his foot connect with Derek’s sternum at the second lunge, he felt the bones in his ribs break as he kicked his Mate into the wall. Derek fell with a groan and had a hard time drawing breath. He was out for the time being as his body worked on healing the damage. 

Ducking down as the vet lunged at his neck, he felt himself catch Deaton’s wrist that was holding a needle. Eyeing the substance, he felt his Other Self go tense. It wouldn’t kill them, but it would definitely be a set back. Stiles tried to force his neck onto the needle, but there was no use. Screaming impotently in rage, he felt his sick self smile and look into Deaton’s eyes. They were just starting to let the fear soak into them. Stiles drew a deep breath and felt the obscene way the Nogitsune took in the fear. It was a drug, and Stiles fought hard against the feeling.

“You know Doc. Stiles really looks up to you. You’ve been a good mentor. But I think it’s time to acknowledge that this pupil is far past anything you can teach him.”

Twisting the wrist, the needle fell to the ground where he promptly smashed it beneath his heel. Feeling the bones crack, the sharp stab of pain that made Deaton cry out made him smile even wider.

“You...will be defeated...” Deaton managed to hiss out over his shoulder at Stiles. A surge of panic flew through Stiles a half second before he truly understood what was happening.

“Maybe. Some day. But not here Alan. And not by you.”

Pulling Deaton back, he took the elder Druid’s head in his hands and gave it a violent twist, filling the room with the sounds of bones cracking. To Derek’s ears, there was one less heartbeat to track. Casting his eyes downward for a moment at the Druid’s death, it was a reality for any Emissary that they may fall with their Pack. This was a needless death. Senseless. It was, even worse, at the physical hands of on of their Pack, even if Stiles wasn’t the one driving right now. Derek’s prayer was that somehow Stiles hadn’t seen what his hands were made to do.

The anguish inside Stiles’ mind was a veritable buffet for the possessing creature. Drawing the sword back, Stiles watched as he prepared to take Scott’s head and the blade only halted because of the quiet muffled word that Derek was able to muster as he buried his tears.

“Wait.”

The blade halted just before making contact, pulling back, the Nogitsune made an impatient huff, and gestured for Derek to get on with it.

“Let’s make a wager.”

Despite himself, the Nogitsune smiled. He loved these kinds of games. Playing a game against a Trickster was always a bad idea for whomever tried it, but he loved to give a sporting chance. Or give the appearance of one. 

“I’m listening.”

“We fight. Tomorrow. Starting at midnight and ending at sunrise, or until no one is left standing.”

“The terms?”

“I win, you leave Stiles, leave us, and go back to whatever hell you crawled out of.”

“Interesting. And if I win?”

Derek’s eyes glowed blue for a moment.

“You get me. You possess me and set Stiles free. Spare him whatever hell it is you’re putting him through, and take me instead.”

The grin on the Nogitsune’s face was devious and cruel. 

“I agree to your terms Werewolf. Seeing as it is past midnight now, we will do this tomorrow. Gather your warriors. We’ll meet where this all began.”

Oak Creek.

Derek nodded, and with no further word, Stiles disappeared in a puff of black smoke, leaving Derek to take care of Deaton’s body, and try to wake Scott.

***

The steaming smoke across the ground was the last sign of the battle that had been waged, and that he had lost. He wasn’t able to wake Scott. The Alpha appeared to be in a healing coma from the massive internal injuries he had sustained. Kira lay broken in the bottom of a crater, though she was still alive. Derek had heard Lydia scream when the Oni had bisected Chris, and had nearly pulverized Allison into dust. The only reason she still drew breath was the silver dagger she’d used on the Oni had managed to kill it before it could deliver the killing blow. Aiden and Ethan lay in a twisted mass of blood and flesh, having been nearly torn to shreds by Stiles’ own hands. Peter even lay gasping in the field, bloody foam forming at the corners of his mouth as his body tried to reverse the damage that had been done to him. Satomi’s pack lay dead or dying, having come to his aide as a way of trying to help destroy the Nogitsune. Satomi herself was at the hospital, one of the few survivors along with Melissa McCall on the Oni attack there. Melissa’s ex-husband wasn’t so lucky. Scott was barely hanging on.

The Sheriff’s station was all but destroyed. The sole survivor being Jordan Parrish. Sheriff Stilinski fell with a sword through his chest, and a broken Oni mask in his hand.

Derek had lost the battle. 

Standing above the kneeling body of his mate, Stiles’ eyes flashed silver with delight, taking in the look of what was going to be his new host.

“I think I’m going to quite like being in your body Derek. But just to prove I’m not such a bad guy, I’ll give you 2 whole hours where it’s just you and your Mate before I kill your wolf and take your body for my own.”

Derek looked up, the bleeding having finally stopped and he was able to see again.

He’d made the wager, and he was willing to live with it. The fact he was going to be allowed to say good bye to his Mate was a blessing he hadn’t counted on. 

Watching as the silver glow faded from Stiles’ eyes, who dropped like a puppet whose strings were cut, he quickly caught the human before he could hurt himself in the fall. No longer smelling the scent of a fox and cold metal on his beloved, Derek allowed himself to finally break down. He’d failed the territory he’d sworn to protect. The stench of blood and death saturated the grounds, and he was responsible for it. Because in his arrogance, he thought he could best a trickster who was thousands of years old. He couldn’t count how many had died this day because of that arrogance. With the delighted glee in the Nogitsune’s face, and Lydia having screamed herself into a catatonic state, he merely looked down at the face he loved, and let the tears fall.

***

Stiles had regained consciousness and they’d taken Lydia to the hospital. The hospital that smelled like a fresh charnel house. The clock was against them, but Stiles had insisted on seeing Scott briefly before they went to the ambulance bay to say their good byes. Tears were threatening to spill, but he didn’t want Derek’s last solid memory of him to be with tears on his face. He wanted Derek to remember his as brave, even if he was dying inside at the memories of what the Nogitsune made him do.

Derek started to get more and more agitated as the time drew closer and closer, desperately holding Stiles and kissing him, as though for the first time, not knowing if it was the last time. He’d already consented to the Nogitsune possessing him, so there was no fighting it. It didn’t need him to let it in as it needed Stiles to. Stiles was stronger than him anyway. 

Derek doubled over, feeling the attack on his wolf begin. Stiles wasn’t sure why, but he knew the fox spirit couldn’t co-habitate with the wolf spirit. Falling to the ground, Derek’s eyes flashed blue, then silver then back to blue. Stiles cradled Derek’s face as the blue slid from his eyes, to be replaced with the cold silver he’d grown accustomed to seeing in the reflective surfaced he’d passed. Tears spilled down his cheeks as his lover was slowly taken over by the Void. 

“Stiles,” Derek gasped weakly. “Run!”

Stiles shook his head resolutely.

“I’ll never leave you.”

With a final gasp Derek’s body went rigid before relaxing completely. A low throaty laugh quietly started, before growing in strength and mania. The moments of silence punctuated by the sniffle of tears and the shuffle of cloth. ‘Derek’ looked up at Stiles, the mask of evil that he’d been wearing now fixed to Derek’s face. 

“You should have run when you had the chance Stiles.”

Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, Stiles barked a laugh.

“Yeah. Probably should have.”

Taking a fist full of Derek’s hair, Stiles smashed the back of his skull into the ground, rendering Derek momentarily unconscious. Awkwardly dragging him to the back of one of the ambulances, Stiles dragged him in before getting behind the steering wheel. Turning the keys in the ignition, he looked at his stunned lover briefly before looking at the rising sun pouring into the garage. Throwing it into gear, he pealed out with sirens blaring, aiming to put as much distance between them and Beacon Hill as he could before Derek woke up.


	2. When Needs Must

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of Beacon Hills and on the road, Stiles does what needs to be done to keep them safe, and try to fly as under the radar as they can.

Derek didn’t wake up for some time until they were well clear of Beacon County. He knew there would be questions for him. For both of them. Questions he wasn’t ready or capable of answering just yet. How do you find an adequate answer for what he did. True, it wasn’t him in the driver’s seat, but that didn’t matter. His face was the one that would have been seen on the cameras at the station planting the bombs that took out the building. He was the one who had delivered the Oni to the hospital. His was the face that was caught on the camera walking in to Oak Creek. He could imagine it now.

“Stiles. Why did you blow up the station and kill everyone including your father?”

“Well sir. I was possessed by a thousand year old trickster spirit that feeds off anger and strife, but has a particular enjoyment of pain, both physical and psychological.”

“And delivering the murderers to the hospital?”

“Needed to make sure there was maximum damage done to the people I care about and love.”

“Oak Creek?”

“Had to kill them myself.”

Yeah. He wasn’t sticking around Beacon Hills to face down a jury of his peers. Even if they bought the truth about being possessed by a millennia old Fox spirit, and acquitted him, there were way too many ghosts that he was responsible for waiting to claim him. 

Once they were far enough away, Stiles looked over at Derek and felt his heart bottom out in his chest. He had a vivid recollection of what it was like being a prisoner in his own body. Derek had a borderline martyr complex, feeling the intense need to pay for the sins of others, as though he weren’t worthy. As his mate, Stiles had been doing everything in his powers, both magical and mundane, to prove to Derek that he was worthy of love. Worthy of consideration. That he owed no-one anything. Of course Derek wouldn’t ever admit to accepting that, and did the stupid thing to keep everyone safe. He was even more reckless when it came to watching out for Stiles. John hadn’t been thrilled when Stiles and Derek announced their relationship status, but he also wasn’t stupid enough to try and get between them. 

Stiles’ heart fluttered at the last clear memory he had of Derek and his father sitting on the couch, watching a baseball game, cheering on Their Team, and laughing over a beer while Stiles sat with a calculus text book in his lap and a pencil between his teeth, smiling at the vision before him. Not long after, he’d started losing time. Not much after that, he’d started his descent to his own personal hell.

“Oh don’t get that look Stiles. We made sure that Daddy-Dear didn’t suffer. Much.”

Feeling the icy chill move through his veins, Stiles kept his eyes on the road before them. He would have to ditch the ambulance soon and find something more suitable for them to drive off in. Hearing the rustling beside him as Derek moved up to the passenger seat and hearing the click of the seatbelt, he spared a glance over at the Nogitsune wearing his lover’s face. Keeping his defensive magics suppressed, he knew he had to avoid lashing out at Derek. It wouldn’t end well. While Derek was no longer a Werewolf, he wasn’t Human-weak either. Stiles remembered that feeling of power very well. 

“Oh good. You’re awake. Here I was worried that I caused an inter-cranial bleed and you died in your sleep.” His voice was utterly devoid of emotion. He knew his anguish was falling from him in waves. He’s honestly surprised it took this long for Derek to rouse himself from the blow to the head. Granted there was still some lingering added strength Stiles was able to put behind the blow, and without the full power of the Fox in him just yet, Stiles had the upper hand.

“That definitely would have been easier I think for you if you had. Instead, you’re stuck with me now Mage.”

Stiles gave him a bitter smile.

“I’m very well aware of who is stuck with who in this scenario. Someone has to make sure you don’t do something with Derek’s body that he can’t forgive himself for once I figure out how to get rid of you.”

There wasn’t a single blip of his heart beat. The Nogitsune would be able to pick up his lying. At least in close quarters. He had some lingering knowledge that was slowly re-establishing itself. Trapped somewhere was the knowledge he needed to fight this evil that had taken over his partner’s body. Even if Derek had welcomed it in, he knew that the real Derek would be fighting. Stiles resolutely refused to believe otherwise, just as he refused to believe a single word out of the Trickster’s mouth.

“You really think you’ll be able to get Him back from Me?”

“They trapped you once. Nothing to say we can’t trap you again.”

Derek shook his head.

“You’re taking me away from the Nemeton. How do you propose trapping me if you aren’t near your source of power young Druid?”

Stiles glared at him from the corner of his eye.

“Give me time.”

Ignoring the pleased laugh that sounded so alien from a familiar voice, Stiles pulled off the main road when he saw a car dealership up ahead. The late hour of the night meant that no-one would see them steal anything. It also minimized the chance of Derek finding someone to torment. Stiles knew he’d have to sleep soon. His body was starting to feel the fatigue in a way that even the adrenaline coursing through his system wouldn’t be able to counter. Given that much of his magic was still untrained, it would not end well for either of them. Getting out of the ambulance, Derek did the same, staying fairly close to Stiles. The Nogitsune wasn’t about to trust that Stiles wouldn’t try and take off on him, and he wasn’t willing to risk the Mage getting away from him and working on a revenge plan. 

Walking in a tense silence, they stopped half a block back from the dealership. Far enough that the cameras set to watch the perimeter wouldn’t see them, and the night watchman wouldn’t have any reason to suspect they were there. For show, Stiles had wrapped his arm around Derek’s waist, to make it look like they were a couple out for a stroll. For a bare second, Stiles even allowed himself to pretend that’s all they were.

Looking up at the power lines, Derek watched as Stiles traced the lines out in a distance that his now human eyes would have trouble tracking. Stiles was following the energy pattern in a way that Deaton had only theorized he could do. The reality was, Stiles saw these energy patterns with the same ease he had looking at a book, or staring at chicken tenders in the oven. His stomach growled for a moment, but he ignored it. They’d eat later.

Stiles made a fist with his free hand and muttered a few words under his breath. Blowing a stream of air into his closed fist, he opened it and a blue light pulsed around them. The scent of ozone permeated the area, and was followed by a thundering boom above their head. A flash of lightening half a mile away and the explosive sound of a transformer blowing, the neighbourhood they were standing in went black. Shaking out the cramp in his hand, Stiles did it again, but on a much smaller scale. This time the lightening struck an out building at the dealership. 

Looking over at Derek, Stiles shrugged.

“Computer servers, back up power for the cameras, and the paper records of the vehicles.”

The evil in Derek was impressed. Following Stiles as they entered the lot, the night watchman busy on the other side of the property watching the side building go up in smoke, and started in on the main part of the office. Stiles went down a line of vehicles, as though looking for a specific vehicle. Stopping at a powder blue Jeep, Stiles smiled a rueful smile. Pressing his hand to the hood, he closed his eyes and felt the energy currents under the hood. Disabling the lo-jack was easy enough. The alarm was next. Pressing the last bit of his will into it, he unlocked the doors and motioned Derek in. 

Putting the vehicle in gear, he knew they’d have to get gas for Roscoe 2.0 sooner rather than later, but he wasn’t too concerned. One of the many lessons that he had received from Deaton concerning the possibility of him becoming the mate and future Emissary to Derek was that the Druids often had to do illegal things to keep a lid on the supernatural world so normal humans didn’t discover and freak out. That meant creating fake bank accounts. Credit cards. Stealing high tech vehicles and manipulating the system to make it all above board. Stiles showed a knack for the tech side of things, which was congruent with his generation. He had more than a few moral qualms with circumventing the legal side of things, but Deaton had pointed out if it meant the difference between him and Derek escaping with their lives, or a dealership some how misplacing a single vehicle, what was he more likely to do?

Pulling away slowly so as to not garner any attention, he muttered a simple spell to put a glamour on the vehicle to make people not realize that it didn’t have plates just yet. Driving through the dark roads towards a side of town that still had power, Stiles didn’t bother explaining anything to Derek. In truth, he was just too tired to care all that much. He didn’t even notice the look of glee on Derek’s face as he deeply inhaled the scents from outside. It wasn’t werewolf. It was pure malicious delight. Setting the fire, taking out the power, even the excitement of stealing the Jeep were all like candy nuggets to Derek. He didn’t even have to do a thing, merely exist. The Nogitsune had been forced to be more overt when he was possessing Stiles in the first place. That was what lead to his discovery. While there was something enjoyable about walking among others and ripping them to shreds, there was something satisfying about not having to clean the gore out from under one’s own nails as well. 

Pulling into a motel parking lot, Stiles parks and shuts off the vehicle. It didn’t escape Derek’s attention that there was no actual key fob in the car, meaning it wouldn’t be going anywhere if Stiles didn’t allow it. Following the human into the motel, he once again found Stiles arm wrapped around his waist, the younger man’s head resting on his shoulder. Giving him a curious look, Derek found no love in his eyes. This was a calculated move, the same as blowing up the transformer had been. The look was also unmistakeable. Play along or else.

Resting his head on Stiles, he allowed himself to be lead to the counter were Stiles went into a long drawn out explanation of how he lost their room key, but they totally had reservations, and that the morning staff had upgraded their room at no charge because it was their honeymoon. Stiles even stressed that part in such a way that made Derek almost gag, and the bits the Nogitsune retained from Stiles’ personality also told him the human had a tough time stomaching that one. A little influential magic later, courtesy of the sigil that Stiles drew on the desk with his finger, they had new keys to what was presumably the best room in this rat trap motel. Stiles would make sure the room was paid for before they left, but for right now, the illusion extended to the computer system as well. 

Once they were in their room, which for the sake of the charade was a king room with minibar, Stiles brusquely pushed Derek away, making his way to the mini bar, and pulled out the small bottles of vodka. Cracking the first bottle he downed it straight, the cheap alcohol stinging the entire way down. Looking at Derek, the look of pure contempt and hatred filled his eyes. The Nogitsune was a little surprised at that look, unaware that Stiles was even capable of looking at Derek with that glare, let alone the pure unbridled hate behind it.

In a deep recessed corner of his mind, the true essence of Derek all but laughed at the look in his lover’s face.

_”You are so fucked.”_

For the barest fraction of a second, the Nogitsune felt something he certainly hadn’t expected.

Fear.


	3. On the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pulling his wallet out, he handed Derek a few folded bills and an ID card. Derek’s eyebrow quirked in a not so friendly gesture.
> 
> “Noggy Zune?”
> 
> Smiling to himself, Stiles nodded.
> 
> “Yeah. I figured your parents were probably celestial hippies and your asshole nature is just your way of rebelling against them and the name they gave you. If anyone runs it they’ll find everything you’d expect. But do NOT get caught because your finger prints are still on the system and THAT I can’t do anything about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s important to remember...it is NOT Derek driving his skin.

As the Nogitsune lay in bed, panting and exhausted from the thorough working over he and Stiles had given each other, he raised his head up on his arm to watch the pale naked boy standing by the minibar, holding an empathy glass in his hand as though contemplating something serious. Clearing his throat, Derek’s body stretched out, relishing at the popping of joints and how the chilled air crossed his sweat covered body.

“What are you thinking about.”

It was less a question and more a demand. Stiles merely narrowed his gaze at the question, and spit into the glass the contents of his mouth. Derek cringed at the quantity he’d been holding in his mouth, but couldn’t help but smirk.

“What’s wrong baby. Don’t love me anymore?”

“Oh, I love that body just fine, it’s what’s behind the wheel driving it that I don’t like. Or trust.”

Setting down the one glass, Stiles picked up the other spare glass, and smashed it against the counter, causing Derek to sit up at the sudden noise. Eyes narrowing on Stiles he sat up on the bed and leaned forward. Without a second thought, Stiles grabbed a shard of glass and cut the pad of the palm of his hand. Letting the blood drip into the glass, Stiles mumbled under his breath. The air in the room started to crackle with a build up of power. 

Throwing himself from the bed, Derek launched himself at Stiles to interrupt his casting. Holding his uninjured hand up in a gesture meant as stop, Stiles all but barked, “Impedire.”

Derek fell as though he hit an invisible wall. Pushing hard against it, he found the air gave nothing to allow him closer to the casting Emissary-in-Training. Stiles mouth moved in a blur of muttered language, making Derek want to pull away. He found himself surrounded by invisible walls. Eyes going wide in panic, he looked at Stiles as the words dropped to nothing. The saliva, the blood and the semen that Stiles had spit into the glass flashed briefly and turned to ash.

“Detrudo.” Stiles gestured at the wall, causing the Nogitsune to crash into the wall near that bathroom door. Advancing on him, Stiles dumped the ash into one hand, and used his magic to force open Derek’s mouth. Blowing a handful of the oily ash into his beloved’s mouth, he clamped his hand over Derek’s mouth, giving him no choice but to swallow the offensive mixture. A flash of red filled the room as his power over Derek faded. It was difficult to hold a powerful being for too long, and Stiles was, in many ways, a novice. His offensive magics weren’t nearly as strong as his defensive ones nor his illusion ones. But it was enough. Stepping back, he didn’t shift his gaze from Derek’s murderous rage, eyes flashing bright silver in the low light.

“Bastard.”

Derek back handed Stiles, causing him to shift backwards have a step. His jaw flared for a moment with pain, but he watched with a malicious smile as Derek grasped his face like he’d been hit with a sledgehammer. 

“What the hell did you do?”

Stiles didn’t even try to hide his laughter.

“Safeguard you idiot. I tied your life force to mine. Not Derek’s. Yours. Anything you do to me, comes back at you twice over. Despite what you felt just now, it doesn’t affect that body. Just your spirit.”

“The ash...”

“The ash. You hurt me, I hurt you. You kill me...you kill yourself too, leaving Derek alive. You try to escape from me, I kill myself, you die.”

“You would end your own life?”

“To save his. You better believe it.”

Derek nursed his jaw, feeling the bruise already starting to develop. Looking in the mirror though, there was no evidence of a bruise at all. The mage was more cunning than he imagined.

“You’d leave him alone after all of this?”

“He’d survive. You left me alone, and cut me off from everyone I care about, or killed the rest. Trust me, of anyone in my life, he’d understand more than anyone else. .”

Inside Derek’s mind, trapped under the layers of the Nogitsune, Derek, the real Derek, gripped the bars of the imaginary cage he was trapped in, watching as a sliver of darkness fell into Stiles’ eyes. To survive the Nogitsune he would have be to ruthless. Stiles had lived for months with this creature in his head, he knew what he was doing. Derek couldn’t help but feel his heart sink at that knowledge though. Looking forlornly, he ‘heard’ something from the corner of the cage. Looking at the bottom corner, one of the bars looked a little loose. Giving it a test wiggle, it eventually fell away as he worried at it.

_”Well that’s new...”_

***

True to his word, Stiles had managed to transfer funds to the motel to cover the nights they stayed. At the same time he secured a laptop, and a fake bank account to help keep them off the radar. The vehicle was a little trickier, taking the better part of a day, as well as a few misguiding spells to keep them from being caught. Mixing technology and magic was a recipe for disaster but he’d cobbled it together. Being largely untrained, and unable to reach out to Deaton put him at a severe disadvantage. 

He COULD reach out to Marin, but he couldn’t help but think that reaching out to the sister of the person he’d killed not even a week ago would be in poor taste. She was pragmatic almost to a fault, but at the same time she was powerful. More powerful even than Deaton as she didn’t try to hide from her calling the way he had after he’d failed the Hales. 

Looking out of the corner of his eye at Derek, he found himself most concerned about the lack of feeling he had in regards to what was happening. If anything he mostly just felt...tired. Tired of losing. Tired of fighting. Just, tired.

“Don’t give up on this just yet Stiles. You need to have some fight left in you. Or else what’s the point in keeping you around.”

“Staying alive for one.”

Derek made a noncommittal noise from the passenger seat. “You know that your spell can’t hold me forever. I will figure out a way.”

“I know how much you love playing your games. How you look at us as mewling infants in comparison to how long you’ve been around. I still managed to get part of a binding on you though. Your arrogance will be your undoing.”

“I can say the same for you.”

“Not arrogant. Just cautious. You’re possessing the body of one of the last people I have in my life that I love. He would be the first person to tell me to kill him if it meant stopping you. And I would. Knowing everything I know, I would. Don’t test me Noggy.”

“Noggy?”

“I sure as fuck am not calling you Derek.”

The Nogitsune grimaced at the nickname. Not very dignified. 

“There’s got to be a different name.”

“Then I’ll leave you to figure that out.”

Stiles voice held a tone of finality, considering the conversation finished. He felt no burning need to engage in any form of conversation, instead allowing the rhythmic sound of the road beneath their wheels fill the cabin of the Jeep. Taking a sip of his coffee, he sighed, watching the horizon. As much as he wanted to avoid it, he knew he’d have to find somewhere for the Nogitsune to feed the darker side of its nature. As much as the body needed sustenance, so too did the demon fox. The trick was going to be mitigating the damage done to pretty well everyone else. 

When they reached the next gas station, Stiles pulled off to the side and pulled out the laptop he’d bought. Connecting to the Wifi, he ran a search for things going on in the area. Labour disputes. Protested. Picketing. Political events. Anything that would carry any amount of tension that could be ignited into a powder keg out of control. He was purposefully avoiding anything that already had armed people trying to keep the peace, he didn’t want to risk a body count, though even he knew it would be unavoidable. Finding something that looked suitable, he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Sporting events would be a good choice. Testosterone fuelled stupidity would be the perfect storm. Easy to stir up trouble. 

Filling the Jeep and paying, Stiles punched the address into his new phone and followed the GPS directions to the Stadium. Feeling his stomach clench at the thought of what he was knowingly risking, he tried to ignore the satisfied sigh that was produced beside him. Scowling at Derek who was drinking his pain down like it was water, he all but growled.

“What.”

“I love the taste of existential crisis in the morning.”

“It’s 3 in the afternoon.”

“It’s metaphorical.”

“Asshole.”

Stiles growled.

“I’m dropping you off at a Stadium to do what you need to do for a few hours. Try not to kill anyone.”

“You’re no fun.”

“You want to be able to do this? Or you content just getting by on the scraps I seem to be throwing you.”

Growling under his breath, Stiles found it to be much less intimidating now that Derek no longer possessed his wolf. It just didn’t pack the same punch.

“You’re not understanding things. We are essentially fugitives on the run from Beacon Hills. You don’t have the luxury of doing a slow build to draw in the emotional energy you need to feed on. There’s a sporting event of two major rivals nearby and the stands are going to be charged with what you’re after. It won’t take much to set it off and get you what you need. While I hate you with every fibre of my being, I have a vested interest in keeping you around and alive. Take it or leave it.”

Derek sat back and thought about what Stiles was saying. As much as the 1000 year old entity hated to admit it, Stiles had a point. They couldn’t settle down. Not yet anyway. Not for a long while if they were being honest.

“What are you going to do?”

“Find a place to stay for a night or two. Grab something to eat. Clothes. Figure out what law enforcement agencies are after us. Maybe see if I can find out how things are going in Beacon Hills. You know. The leg work.”

Pulling his wallet out, he handed Derek a few folded bills and an ID card. Derek’s eyebrow quirked in a not so friendly gesture.

“Noggy Zune?”

Smiling to himself, Stiles nodded.

“Yeah. I figured your parents were probably celestial hippies and your asshole nature is just your way of rebelling against them and the name they gave you. If anyone runs it they’ll find everything you’d expect. But do NOT get caught because your finger prints are still on the system and THAT I can’t do anything about.”

Scowling at Stiles who merely have him a look like, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Continuing the drive in silence, Stiles followed the directions from his phone. Even he could feel the charge in the air. The tension. It was a veritable buffet for the creature driving Derek’s skin. Stiles felt a little nervous about what he was doing, but he knew this was what was needed to keep Derek healthy. Before he could say anything, Derek was bounding out of the Jeep, tossing the finger at Stiles, before getting lost in the crowd. Feeling his stomach twinge again, he felt a roll of nausea grip him. 

He had a bad feeling about this.


	4. Housekeeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the doorway, the Nogitsune drew himself to his full height, suddenly a bit more leery of Stiles who this time WAS throwing up on the ground.
> 
> “Where did he go?”
> 
> “Does it matter?”
> 
> Derek shook his head and shrugged. 
> 
> “Not really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubious Consent. OMC gets killed. I’m also taking some liberties with what the Emissaries are able to do. Stiles may show a bit more a proclivity to magic, but I’m not saying why just yet...You’ve been warned...

Stiles had done most of what he had told the Nogitsune he would be attending to, but kept a few things off the table. He’d also stopped by the local magic shop, and while he didn’t purchase anything, he’d asked a few discreet questions about the local supernatural community. He was purposefully trying to avoid any large groups of Were-creatures due to a lingering fear that he knew was more associated with the Nogitsune than with himself. He was pretty comfortable around them, but there was that lingering feeling that the creature he’d shared his body with for a few months was a little jumpy. Especially around the Alphas. Which left him wondering why. Locked somewhere in the lizard part of his brain was the knowledge he was looking for, but it would be sometime until he could unlock it. Time and patience. 

He’d also kept an ear out for anything bizarre happening at the stadium he’d dropped Derek off at. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the game was still early yet. There was some talk of a couple of the players being extra aggressive, but they were coming in to play off season so that was to be expected. The nagging feeling in the back of Stiles’ mind wasn’t going anywhere which was a little worrisome. His Dad had taught him to trust his gut, and if something was feeling off then he probably was right. As much as he hated to admit it, being away from Derek was helping clear his head. It was helping with his focus and letting his brain go like a runaway freight train was good for cleansing his thoughts. It also was doing wonders for trying to sort out how the hell he was going to beat back his enemy without killing Derek in the process. 

During the second half of the game a pretty large fight had broken out in the stands. Stiles quickly pulled up the footage on the smartphone he’d purchased the day after they left Beacon Hills, and grimaced when he saw, just adjacent to the fight, Derek, with a look of grim satisfaction. Switching to a live feed from the news he watched at the fight continued to grow, and if he didn’t know any better he would swear that Derek was staring right back at him through the video feed. Quickly shutting down the app, the phone wasted no time in ringing.

“You there babe?”

Stiles all but snarled back. 

“Don’t worry about picking me up. I’ll make my way back to the hotel. Just text me the address. I’ll be bringing treats.”

There was no part of him that wanted to know what the Nogitsune’s idea of treats was going to be. Knowing better than to antagonize the thousand year old creature who had managed to ignite a fight that was now getting live Twitter coverage, he texted the address for the hotel he’d set them up in for the next three days while he tried to catch his bearing and make a plan of attack. They couldn’t settle down but they also couldn’t keep running either. They’d have to find somewhere to rest for a little while and not bring too much attention to themselves. The nagging voice in Stiles’ head was screaming “Mexico” but he wasn’t about to try and cross the border. Passport forgeries were all but impossible for the resources he’d had. Deaton guarded his secrets jealously surrounding his varying contacts for some of the black market things their people needed. He could ask Marin but...he wasn’t quite there yet. Once they were out of range of her influence then maybe he’d reach out. But for right now...not so much. 

Watching as the message sent, Stiles grabbed the last couple things he was picking up and paid, making his way back to the hotel with a sinking feeling of dread taking root in his stomach.

***

The radio buzzed in the background, barely audible over the sound of sweaty flesh slapping against sweaty flesh. Stiles sat in the desk chair facing the bed, working himself as quickly as he could to cross the finish line before the Nogitsune and the man he was pounding from behind finished. He was trying to not think too hard about what was going on in front of him, but it was an image that was hard to shake. 

Sure there were times that he’d been interested in what it would have been like to watch Derek with someone else, but that thought usually involved him as an active participant. That thought also had been dead and buried since the first time that Derek had swept him off his feet and given him that first toe curling kiss. When Derek had come back in the room with another man in tow, he laughed at the shocked look on Stiles face. When the other man was in the bathroom freshening up, the Nogitsune said with a sneering grin. 

“Simple enough. You put a leash on me so I’m gonna make it hell for you. I’m going to fuck that man, and you’re going to watch. You’re going to watch and make him think you’re into it. And if you cum before we do...he gets to live. If you don’t, I’ll kill him and make you watch.”

Stiles tried closing his eyes and let out a forced moan to make Derek’s bed partner think that he was into it. Feeling his breath hitch in his chest, he took a deep breath and willed himself over the finish line. Opening his eyes in time to see Derek pull out, and remove the condom that had successfully done its job. Stiles let out a wordless cry, realizing he was too late. The orgasm died as quickly as it starter and before he could shout a word of warning, Derek had pulled the man back, and gave his head a sharp twist, breaking his neck and killing him almost instantly. Shoving his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming, Stiles all but threw up when his brain caught up to what had just happened. 

In the far distance, he heard the tinny sound of the radio bleating out the top hits, and the Nogitsune laughing while he tied off the condom and threw it in the trash. Looking down at the body on the bed, Derek shrugged.

“You’ll have to do better next time Stiles. Now clean up your mess.” 

Derek rolled off the bed and padded into the washroom. Stiles heard the shower start, and stared at the dead body with a detached feeling that was starting to become more and more his normal. Cleaning himself off from the remnants of his forced orgasm that almost was, he got to his feet and retrieved the condom from the trash, throwing it on the body in order to keep everything together. Retrieving the man’s wallet, Stiles pulled the cash out, leaving the cards alone. Stuffing the cash into his discarded jeans, he looked at the body and sighed.

It was, sadly, one of the first lessons that Deaton had taught him. Emissaries were occasionally called on to hide the bodies of those killed by their Packs, or in their Packs. If no other lesson would be learned by an Emissary in training, this was mandatory. Derek had likely been seen leaving with him, but that was incidental. Grabbing the credit cards out of the wallet as well, Stiles carefully dressed then moved the body to the floor before dragging it to the linoleum in the kitchenette. 

Grabbing a few of the ingredients he’d picked up at the magic store, he set about mixing together a recipe that would yield a powder that would simply make the body...not be there anymore. He wasn’t clear on the details, only that he’d be out of commission for a few days. Likely having to hole up in the room with the lights off, curtains drawn, and air conditioning cold enough to freeze a mortal out of the room. 

Muttering in Latin while he put together the mixture that Deaton had insisted he learn by rote, he paid no attention as the bathroom door opened and Derek came out in a towel. What didn’t escape Stiles’ notice was the large bruise in Derek’s side. Seeing an injury on his body was a surreal experience given the fact that the Werewolf typically healed minor injuries like that. It stood to reason his healing wouldn’t be as swift given that he wasn’t a werewolf anymore. 

Taking a deep breath, Stiles sprinkled the mix over the body and the condom, making sure to cover them both as completely as possible. Mumbling a few phrases, he held his hands out over the lump on the floor in front of him. Pinching his eyes shut, he felt himself go pale enough that his veins were easily seen through his skin and dropped to the floor as the body disappeared as though being sucked down a drain. 

In the doorway, the Nogitsune drew himself to his full height, suddenly a bit more leery of Stiles who this time WAS throwing up on the ground.

“Where did he go?”

“Does it matter?”

Derek shook his head and shrugged. 

“Not really.”

Watching as Derek crawled under the covers, Stiles crawled to the pull out couch and slid under the covers. Closing his eyes, he heard the tell tale click of Derek turning off the radio. The body would be appearing some where in a desert, long and far away from where humans typically ventured, ready to be claimed be the predators that made the dunes their home. Like so many before had. Stiles had a feeling, deep in his gut, that this wouldn’t be the last time he had to use this skill.

Looking over at Derek’s sleeping form, he tossed up a prayer to a god he no longer believed in that the body of his lover wouldn’t be on that list, no matter what.


End file.
